


The Colours will Change

by Omeceela



Series: The past is a foreign country [2]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Before and After, Character Study, Gen, M/M, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, changes, colour, sort of
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-05-21
Updated: 2017-10-30
Packaged: 2018-03-31 12:49:20
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 1,899
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3978673
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Omeceela/pseuds/Omeceela
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Before, and After.<br/>What different colours mean to Harry and how they change. </p><p> "The colours grow and change as the painting grows and changes" - Carol Ann Schrader</p><p>Please R&R!</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. I. Red

i.  
Although he knows that he should think of Number 4, Privet Drive as home, home is where the heart is, and walking into the red and gold common room, Harry realised that this was what coming home truly felt like.

Looking around at the squashy red armchairs and the bright red tapestries scattered around the common room, Harry felt his shoulders finally loosen as he allowed Ron and Hermione lead him towards their chairs by the roaring fireplace.

It was in this room, in all its red splendour where Harry learnt the true meaning of family. He was surrounded by the bright Gryffindor red when he first learnt to play chess with Ron, when he rushed his potions essays, and when he listened to his two best friends bicker and laugh together as they grew up, side by side.

Red meant house pride, red meant comfort, and red meant home.

* * *

 

ii.   
It was chaos.

People were screaming, they were crying, shouting, laughing as spells were thrown around, as bodies fell to the ground or moved onto their next opponent, momentarily victorious in their battles.

With Hogwarts as the backdrop, Harry watched as a student fired a red disarming spell at a cackling figure in black, only to be hit by the sickly red of the cruciatus,  _screaming_ , thrashing in jerky movements, until her torturer finally moved on to fire that ugly red at another defender of Hogwarts.

The ground was stained with the dark red of blood, bodies of death eaters and teachers and aurors and students alike strewn across the lawn, and wasn't it funny, Harry idly thought, that he couldn't tell the difference between the pure blood of the death eaters and the 'dirty' blood of all the half bloods and muggleborns, when it was spilt onto the ground. 

When Harry finally stood opposite Voldemort, staring into those deadly bright red eyes, he knew that this was his only chance of stopping him, of ending the war and making sure that the grass of Hogwarts would never be stained red again.

After it was all over, he didn't think he ever wanted to see the red of pain, suffering, and death ever again. 

 


	2. II. Orange

i.  
The first time Harry ever really noticed the colour orange was when he saw 6 people with hair the brightest orange he had ever seen walking through King's Cross Station.  
He had seen orange before, of course; the orange of the juice he wasn't allowed to taste, the orange of the Surrey sky when he was forced to wait outside until it faded to red then blue then finally black before he was allowed back inside; but the orange hair of the family walking through King's Cross Station was so much more.

to the day he died, the only time Harry ever saw that colour was when it was on the head of a Weasley.

Some time in the middle of their first year, following another one of Draco's taunts, Harry briefly mentioned the muggles he'd seen with orange hair.

Ron laughed in amusement before he said to him "I saw that hair they call orange once, it's no where as close to ours! When we were little, mum used to tell us the story of why our hair is the colour of fire. She said that long ago, when dragons were still allowed to roam freely, one of the first Weasley's got lost as a child, and was found by a dragon. Instead of eating him, the dragon raised the boy as her own, and breathed fire onto his hair to tell all the other dragons to leave him alone! It's why Charlie's so obsessed with 'em, he wants to be just like the boy and make his own family of dragons."  
And for the first time that year, Ron looked proud instead of ashamed of the hair that marked him as a Weasley.

Over his next few years at Hogwarts, Harry came to relate orange not as the colour of the ugly sweaters handed to him by the Dursley's, but as the colour of a boisterous, loving family who gave him an understanding of what it was like to have a family.

Orange was tight hugs, practical jokes, loyalty, and above all, family.

* * *

 

ii.  
It was _so hot_.

Running for his life, Harry could feel the scorching heat of the fiendfyre licking at his feet, the roaring of the flaming creatures drowning out the panicked shouts of the teens dodging the deadly orange heat.

Hearing the thin, agonised scream of Crabbe as he was consumed by his own flames, Harry's own fear choked him, and when he saw Malfoy trapped, with the limp body of Goyle cradled in his arms, he flew to their rescue because he didn't want to leave them to die.

But what he would never mention when people brought up his saving of the enemy after everything was over, was that he also saved them because he never wanted to hear the haunting scream of anyone being consumed by the ugly orange of cursed flames ever again.


	3. III. Green

i.  
Aunt Petunia never talked about his mother. He didn't know if he got her eyes, or her nose, or her smile, or if she had been short and skinny too. Somehow, he doubted he got her hair because it was so dark and messy he'd imagine a woman would have gone crazy trying to deal with it - he knew his Aunt sometimes did.

But when he entered the wizarding world, and everyone would tell him 'You have your mother's eyes', he clung to that, because it was the first piece of his mother he ever received. Looking into the mirror, he would sometimes stare at his eyes and try to imagine the pair looking back belonged to a woman with flaming red hair and a brave, bright smile.  
People always talked about his father, how he was tall, charming, and excellent at quidditch, and 'you look so like your father' Sirius had said, and added 'Except your eyes' as an after thought, as though it was less important, as if  _his mother_  was less important.

It was Professor Lupin, though, who had loved his parents equally and would tell him about both; he may have had his father's face, but he grinned like his mother, happy and mischievous; his father loved chocolate ice cream over anything, but you're just like your mother Harry, she couldn't get enough vanilla ice cream either.

Harry had his mother's eyes, bright green, mischievous and kind, everyone knew that, but what people didn't know, and what he held close to his heart was that he also had her nimble fingers, quick wit and deep ability to love.

* * *

ii.  
By the time he left Hogwarts, Harry's memories were so full of flashes of green and red and blue and yellow that he could almost forget that his earliest memory of the wizarding world was the sickly green spell that had ended his mother's life.

When Harry was younger, he didn't understand his nightmares about the brief flash of green and the trail of a woman's scream, but by the end of his third year, he finally understood that it wasn't a nightmare at all.

As Professor Moody sent the flash of blinding green light at the spider scuttling on the desk in front of him, as he saw the spider suddenly collapse as if it's strings had been cut loose, Harry briefly wondered if his parents had looked like that as they died; heavy and  _silent_. What had it been like, he wondered, watching the sickly green light heading towards you, knowing your death was inevitable? Had they felt fear and regret, or were they brave till the very end, knowing that they were dying for the ones they loved?

It was only until he faced Voldemort at the very end, the hated green rushing towards him, that he realised you could feel both.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry it's been a while, have had a busy few months and probably will continue to be busy for a while; I promise this isn't abandoned though.  
> Please leave any review, criticism is always welcome :)


	4. IV. Blue

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> IT TOOK ME OVER 2 YEARS BUT I HAVE UPDATED AND FINISHED IT.  
> I'd actually finished this chapter ages ago but I wasn't happy with it and ignored it for 2 years, but I couldn't think of what to change so it's done!  
> Hope you enjoy it!  
> Comments and criticism is welcome! :)

i.  
Neville's eyes were blue.

It was a fact: Harry is a wizard, the Weasley's have red hair, and Neville's eyes are blue.  
However, as the years progressed, Harry began to learn more than he ever could have imagined about the simple blue eyes of Neville Longbottom.

He knew what they looked like when they were afraid, head bowed down under the weight of Snape's cruelty. He knew what they looked like when they were filled with nervous courage, steely in the face of standing up to his friends to defend the house of the brave. He knew what they looked like when he was happy, angry, and sad, but it was only until the second task of the Triwizard cup that he realised that he'd never really noticed when they were still and closed.

Staring at the pale face of the boy floating in the lake, his heart in his stomach, Harry quickly came to the realisation that the sight of Neville's eyes covered by pale, unmoving eyelids was the worst thing he'd ever seen. Filled with a desperation and fear that felt like lead in his stomach, Harry swam with all he had to reach Neville and get him out, because he needed to see Neville's eyes open and shining happy and blue.

The next 15 minutes he spent in the lake was murky in Harry's memory. All he could recall was a steady determination to get Neville's eyes open again, and shackles surrounding his heart that made it difficult to breathe. But the clearest memory he had of the second task was this: Neville's head breaching the water, and his eyes opening wide with a gasp, the shock and following joy the most beautiful book he'd ever read.

They immediately found Harry, and his entire world narrowed in on that special brand of _blue, blue, blue._

* * *

ii.  
Neville's eyes were blue.

It was a fact: Harry is a wizard, the Weasley's have red hair, and Neville's eyes are blue.  
However, as the years progressed, Harry began to learn more than he ever could have imagined about the simple blue eyes of Neville Longbottom. He knew what they looked like when they were afraid, head bowed down over his grandmother's bed, fists clenched in the blankets as her hand gently rested on his head as they whispered their goodbyes. He knew what they looked like when they were filled with determined courage, wand steady against the dark wizards responsible for the torture of a family of muggles. He knew what they looked like when he was happy, angry, and sad, but best of all, he would never stop learning what they looked like for the rest of his life.

To Harry, blue was this: cosy Sunday mornings waking up face-to-face, morning breath ignored; looks of pride exchanged over the wavy tentacles of the first plant Harry kept alive for a year all by himself (it was a Snarfalump they gleefully named Cormac - Hermione had thrown her head back and laughed); arch glances at each other as they waited for the ever-growing Weasley clan to notice the simple bands around their third fingers; simple, loving looks swapped over the Daily Prophet as they sipped their tea in the mornings.

Harry carried blue in his heart and soul until the day he held Neville's hand, wrinkles soft against his skin, and closed his eyes, ready for the next great adventure.

**Author's Note:**

> There will be more chapters following on with each chapter representing a different colour.  
> Stay tuned! :)


End file.
